


Pretty Little Liars Alternate Universe Collection

by Megalodont



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Hackers, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Video Game World, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, BAMF Women, Canon Lesbian Character, Chatting & Messaging, Crossword Puzzles, Don't Have to Know Canon, F/F, Gay For You, Girl Power, Hair Brushing, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Tried, Inspired by Music, My First Work in This Fandom, Other, Shorts, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, YouTube
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:52:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8018335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalodont/pseuds/Megalodont
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Non-Canon Compliant Alternate Universe Short Stories, Usually will include one of my PLL OC's, Layla or Rosa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Little Liars Alternate Universe Collection

**Author's Note:**

> So, this might have borrowed[read;stole] some of the short story in Cassandra Clare's The Bane Chronicles, What Really Happened in Peru. Please enjoy.

_**Canon Compliancy: Little** _

_**Canon Characters: Alison DiLaurentis, Aria Montgomery, Hanna Marin** _

_**AU Theme: Witches in History** _

 

**_It was a sad moment in Alison DiLaurentis' life when she was banned from Peru by the High Council of Peruvian of Witches._ **

 It was not just because the posters with a picture of her that were passed around the fae in Peru were so wildly unflattering. It was because Peru was one of her favorite places. She had had many adventures there, and had many wonderful memories, starting with the time in 1890 when she had invited Aria Montgomery and Hanna Marin to join her for a well deserved holiday in Lima.

Lima was always abuzz with fae activity. Even in the outer jungle areas, fae activity ran rampant. It was fun to watch all of her kin in all their debauchery(although not all fae were witches or even related, Alison was still a fledgling witch, and that entailed some familial obligation.)

 

It was a beautiful day in Lima, the lake out the window a wash of blue and the sun shining with such dazzling force that it seemed to have burned all the azure and cloud out of the sky and left it all a white blaze. Carried on the clear mountain air, out over the lake water and through the house, rang Alison's melody.

She was turning in a gentle circle under the windowsill when the shutters on Aria's bedroom window slammed open.

"What - what - what are you doing?" She demanded.

"I am almost six hundred years old," Alison claimed, and Aria snorted, since Alison changed her age to suit herself every few weeks. Alison swept on. "It does seem about time to learn a musical instrument." She flourished his new prize, a little stringed instrument that looked like a cousin of the lute that the lute was embarrassed to be related to. "It's called a charango. I am planning to become a charanguista!"

"I wouldn't call that an instrument of music," Aria observed sourly. "An instrument of torture, perhaps."

Alison cradled the charango in her arms as if it were an easily offended baby. "It's a beautiful and very unique instrument! The sound box is made from an armadillo. Well, a dried armadillo shell."

"That explains the sound you're making," said Aria. "Like a lost, hungry armadillo."

"You are just jealous," Alison remarked calmly. "Because you do not have the soul of a true artiste like myself."

"Oh, I am positively green with envy," Aria snapped.

"Come now, Aria. That's not fair," said Alison. "You know I love it when you make jokes about your complexion."

Alison refused to be affected by Aria's cruel judgments. She regarded her fellow fae with a lofty stare of superb indifference, raised her charango, and began to play again her defiant, beautiful tune.

They both heard the staccato thump of frantically running feet from within the house, the swish of skirts, and then Hanna came rushing out into the courtyard. Her blonde hair was falling loose about her shoulders, and her face was the picture of alarm.

"Alison,Aria, I heard a cat making a most unearthly noise," she exclaimed. "From the sound of it, the poor creature must be direly sick. You have to help me find it!"

Aria immediately collapsed with hysterical laughter on her windowsill. Alison stared at Hanna for a moment, until she saw her lips twitch.

"You are conspiring against me and my art," she declared. "You are a pack of conspirators."

She began to play again. Hanna stopped her by putting a hand on her arm.

"No, but seriously, Alison," she said. "That noise is appalling."

Alison sighed. "Every witch's a critic."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I have already explained myself to Aria. I wish to become proficient with a musical instrument. I have decided to devote myself to the art of the charanguista, and I wish to hear no more petty objections."

"If we are all making lists of things we wish to hear no more . . . ," Aria murmured.

Hanna, however, was smiling.

"I see," she said.

"Madam, you do not see."

"I do. I see it all most clearly," Hanna assured her. "What is his name?"

"I resent your implication," Alison said. "There is no man in the case. I am married to my music!"

"Oh, all right," Hanna said. "What's her name, then?"

 

 

Her name was Rosa Imorales , and she was gorgeous.  
The three witches were staying near the harbor, along the shoreline of Lake Titicaca, but Alison liked to see and be part of life in a way that Aria and Hanna, familiar with quiet and solitude from childhood on account of their unusual way of living, did not quite understand. She went walking about the city and up into the mountains, having small adventures. On a few occasions that Aria and Hanna kept hurtfully and unnecessarily reminding her of, she had been escorted home by the police, even though that incident with the Bolivian smugglers had been a complete misunderstanding.  
Alison had not been involved in any dealings with smugglers that night, though. She had simply been walking through the Plaza Republicana, skirting around artfully sculpted bushes and artfully sculpted sculptures. The city below shone like stars arranged in neat rows, as if someone were growing a harvest of light. It was a beautiful night to meet a beautiful girl.  
The music had caught Alison's ear first, and then the laughter. She had turned to look and saw sparkling dark eyes and rumpled hair, and the play of the musician's fingers. Alison had a list of favored traits in a partner - black hair, blue eyes, honest - but in this case what drew her in was an individual response to life. Something she hadn't seen before, and which made her want to see more.

She moved closer, and managed to catch Rosa's eye. Once both were caught, the game could begin, and Alison began it by asking if Rosa taught music. She wanted to spend more time with Rosa, but she wanted to learn as well - to see if she could be absorbed in the same way, create the same sounds.

 Even after a few lessons, Alison could tell that the sounds she made with the charango were slightly different from the sounds Rosa made. Possibly more than slightly. Aria and Hanna both begged her to give the instrument up. Random strangers on the street begged her to give the instrument up. Even cats ran from her.

 

But: "You have real potential as a musician," Rosa said, her voice serious and her eyes laughing.

Alison made it her policy to listen to people who were kind, encouraging, and extremely beautiful.

So she kept at it with the charango, despite the fact that she was forbidden to play it in the house. She was also discouraged from playing it in public places by a crying child, a man with papers talking about city ordinances, and a small riot.

As a last resort she went up to the mountains and played there. Alison was sure that the llama stampede she witnessed was a coincidence. The llamas could not be judging her.

Besides, the charango was definitely starting to sound better. She was either getting the hang of it or succumbing to auditory hallucinations. Alison chose to believe it was the former.

 


End file.
